


Oviparous

by IvoryRaven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Voldemort (Harry Potter), Cloaca, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Hemipenes, Hermaphrodites, M/M, Monsterfucker Harry Potter, Parental Nagini (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvoryRaven/pseuds/IvoryRaven
Summary: Using Nagini in the resurection ritual led to unforseen consequences for Voldemort. Especially after he takes a mysterious, masked man into his bed.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 33
Kudos: 439





	1. Laid

_“Master!”_ hissed Nagini excitedly, her tongue flickering in the air. _“You did not tell me you intended to breed!”_

 _“I am not breeding, my pet,”_ Voldemort told her. _“Humans have reasons for mating other than breeding.”_

 _“That is not what I mean!”_ Nagini coiled around Voldemort’s ankle. _“You smell of eggs!”_

He froze. Nagini’s sense of smell had never been wrong, to his knowledge. _“What.”_

_“Master, you mated during the breeding season and now you smell of eggs! Soon, the eggs will arrive!”_

_“Explain what you mean, my pet.”_

_“You are snake-human. You are my son in your rebirth! Remember you drew from me for your second life. You are my hatchling. Rat-man used a spell to make part of you me! I am a female. You have the penes of a male, this is true, and beyond your cloaca are the oviducts of a female! You are a mighty snake, master! You are both male and female!”_

_“Do you mean that I will lay eggs?”_

_“Yes, master! An exciting day indeed! It comes soon, perhaps two, three sunrises? I will be with you, it is your first breeding season as my hatchling.”_

Voldemort sighed. He hadn’t expected that using Nagini as part of his rebirth ritual would result in whatever form of snakey hermaphroditism he had.

 _“Nagini,”_ he hissed.

_“Yes, master?”_

_“Will the eggs hatch?”_

_“Of course your eggs will hatch, master! Do you not remember mating?”_

Voldemort remembered. The Dark side had thrown a recruitment gala disguised as a political function arranged by Lucus. He had been there, of course, under a guise anyone with half a brain cell could see through. That had been the point. And there had been a handsome stranger there, a dark-haired man in a mask that obscured his features.

He had invited the man into his bed, a place where few souls ever went. Multiple rounds of mind-blowing sex had been had. The man had been fascinated by Voldemort’s hemipenes, even fitting them both into his mouth at one point! For the first time since his resurrection ritual, Voldemort had felt sexy with his new genitals. And twice the penises meant twice the sensation!

But now… he hadn’t realized that his hole was a cloaca, or that he even had the proper parts to lay eggs.

And the weight he’d been putting on wasn’t a sign of increasing health.

He drummed his long fingers against his abdomen, wondering how in the world there could be eggs in there. It was barely protruding at all, just a little bit larger than usual, and that he’d put down to the fact that he’d been eating better recently.

Nagini was right again.

Barely two days later, Voldemort squatted over his bed, hand clasped against his aching stomach. His muscles were rippling, pushing a now-obvious mass within him down, down, down. He could feel the pressure on his cloaca. 

With his other hand, he reached back to try and guide his eggs out. He hooked a finger into his cloaca, soon finding the hard shell of an egg.

He wriggled his finger past it and guided it down. It fell onto his bed with a wet plop.

He sighed in relief and pleasure. The sensation of egg-laying was remarkable: a bit of pain, and an incredibly pleasurable pressure on his insides. And then the sweet relief of nothingness!

His next egg was pushing at his cloaca. He reached to help that one, too, but he must have loosened up since the first one since it fell out on its own, followed by a string of others.

The pain in his abdomen receded. When he was certain there were no more eggs, he turned to examine his clutch.

They were pearly and white and wet. Each one was about the size of his fist. And there were twenty-three.

 _“A small clutch, master, normal for a first-time mother,”_ Nagini hissed, surveying his eggs.

Voldemort curled around his eggs as far as his humanoid body would go, dragging his blankets up to wrap them in. They would stay warm! They would hatch and all be precious, whether they were snakes or humans or something in between.


	2. Incubated

Ginny sat down next to Harry on a couch in the Gryffindor common room with a shit-eating grin. “So! I want all the details.”

Harry blushed. “All the details?”

“All the details,” Ginny confirmed, a lively sparkle in her eye.

“So I used that charm you showed me - thanks for that, by the way, it worked great - and in I went. Head held high, swagger, all the usual ways of getting into places you’re not supposed to by virtue of acting like you should. Nobody even asked for my name. I could have been an Auror going to bust them for all they knew.”

Ginny giggled. “Go on,” she encouraged.

“I saw him almost immediately - he’s hard to miss. Snakeface and all of that.”

“All of what?” Ginny breathed. “You found out, didn’t you?”

Harry smirked. “Oh, yes. And I talked to him first - rude not to, at an event like that. Not like it was a strip club. He was dark and evil and engaging to talk to. He was dreamy, Ginny!”

Ginny snickered. “And?”

“He showed me his bedchambers - and yes, I mean chambers. He has a huge bath - it should barely be a bath, it was a swimming pool! And a walk-in closet, and a personal sitting room. And oh, Merlin, the bed! It was enormous. Plenty of space for a gangbang - but it was kind of cute, Gin, he was all shy about letting me in, so I don’t think they really do have orgies.”

Ginny sighed. “A girl can dream.”

Harry smiled. “He was kind of all nervous, so I stripped to encourage him, he was adorable and all embarrassed about his junk. So I undressed him-”

“You undressed him?!” Ginny was leaning forward, riveted. “Oh, Harry! You undressed him!” she squealed.

Harry squealed back. “I know! And he has an actual, real-life hemipenis-”

“Hemipenes, plural,” Hermione butted in from the other side of the room. Lavender and Parvarti, who had been listening in, were exchanging confused glances.

“Like a micropenis?” asked Parvati.

“No. Hemipenes are the two penises that squamates - snakes and lizards - have,” Hermione explained. “And you two should not be gossiping about them!” This last comment was directed at Ginny and Harry, who wore identical grins.

“Okay, he had hemipenes. And they were even better than we thought! Long, with kind of pointy tips. I gave him a blowjob - double blowjob, really, and he was all flustered and it was so cute, Ginny! So I fucked him. And then we cuddled. He got really cuddly and snuggly and every few hours we could do it all over again.”

Ginny was flushed, her cheeks shining with perspiration. “Awesome,” she breathed.

_“You would feel better if your mate was here,”_ Nagini hissed.

Voldemort raised his head from where he was curled around his clutch. It had been a few days since he laid them and he was terrified something would happen to them. He needed - wanted! - someone to guard the nest while he took care of the eggs. _“I am not really a snake, I should not be feeling this way!”_

_“You are not, that is true. But you are a fierce mother cobra, protecting your young. You are my hatchling, and very much so now that it is breeding season. Your mate should be here, guarding your nest!”_

_“He is not my mate, Nagini.”_

_“If he is not your mate, why did you breed with him?”_ the snake demanded.

_“That is something humans do, my pet. I do not know him, and could not find him even if I wanted to.”_

_“You are a great wizard, master! Surely there is a way to track him down!”_

There was. In fact there were multiple ways Voldemort could think about tracking down his wayward fling.

“Appare vestigium,” he cast, and rewatched the activities of the past few weeks. His egg-laying, Nagini slithering around, a few times he’d pleasured himself - and aha! There he was with the mysterious wizard. And there! the mysterious wizard was leaving, gold footprints following in his wake.

Voldemort almost leaped to follow, but remembered his eggs at the last moment. He could not leave them alone! He cast a quick warming charm on them to keep them at the proper temperature, and a concealing charm to hide them from view. 

He then levitated them, reluctant to leave them alone, and gathered all twenty-three in his arms. They bobbed along with him, warm and letting off the faintest stirrings of developing magical signatures.

The golden footsteps ended with a burst of twisting golden magical residue just outside the span of the wards. Voldemort reached out, grasping at a strand of stray magic and tugging it. He’d found a direct line to wherever the mysterious wizard had gone.

He grasped the golden thread and willed himself along it. With the power of his mind alone he travelled through Britain, arriving in an area just outside Hogwarts.

So his mysterious fling was a professor, or more likely, a student. The curved jaw and lithe form hadn’t seemed like any Hogwarts professor he knew of.

So he was a student, then. Voldemort didn’t find the idea as disturbing as he probably should. Yes, he was seventy, but he’d also been ‘born’ in his current form less than a year ago. And his mind was not the same as it had been when he was younger. He had changed, enough that he wouldn’t quite consider himself any particular age. And he was immortal; did that not give him a reason to be timeless, ageless?

He followed the golden footsteps into Hogwarts Castle, the urge to find his mate and demand he protect their eggs growing stronger. He was so close!

The footsteps were overlapping with others, the Hogwarts halls were awash with swirling residue from the movements of hundreds of students. The set he was following was brighter than the rest, occasionally crossing itself.

Eventually the trail led him to the Great Hall, and towards the Gryffindor table. Okay, so perhaps a seventh year? No, the trail kept going, and going, to -

_“Potter?”_

Potter looked up. _“Voldemort?”_ he hissed, in… Parseltongue?!

This changed everything. But the boy - he’d spent years trying to kill this boy - and now he was the mysterious man he’d taken to bed, the father of his unhatched eggs? And more! His human Horcrux? _“You will come with me,”_ he demanded. _“You will guard our nest until the hatchlings emerge.”_

 _“I don’t understand,”_ hissed Potter, the glow of his vibrant green eyes reminding Voldemort fondly of their time together.

_“It appears my resurrection had some unintended consequences, causing a highly unusual event to occur when we met at the gala. These eggs with me? They are yours, Potter, yours and mine, and in them are our hatchlings.”_

_“You - you’re a snake? Are you trying to say you laid eggs?!”_

_“Yes,”_ Voldemort confirmed.

_“I thought you were male!”_

_“As did I, Potter. Believe me, this came as a surprise to me too. The result of the ritual was that I am now part king cobra - a hermaphrodite king cobra of some sort, it appears - and I require your assistance in guarding our… nest.”_

_“You have a nest.”_

_“Do not be ridiculous! It is the bed, not a real nest. I am not really an animal. Come.”_

_“The eggs are mine? All of them? There are an awful lot.”_

_“Yes, Potter, I do not fool around with every person I meet! Of course they’re yours. And the number is small for a cobra clutch! You will come with me.”_

_“Well, that’s why you’ve laid these eggs, isn’t it?”_ Potter snarked, but got up from his seat and smiled brightly at the eggs floating in Voldemort’s grasp. _“Let’s go.”_

_“You are very willing to obey a man who killed your parents.”_

Potter smiled. _“You’ll do anything I ask, won’t you, Vee? I’ll come with you and you’ll do what I want you to.”_

Deep down, Voldemort knew it was true, although he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud yet.

He Apparated them to his bedchambers, and arranged the eggs on the bed. Nagini hissed excitedly when she saw that he had brought Potter with him.

_“You found your mate, master!”_

_“He is more than my mate, my pet. He is my soul,”_ Voldemort told her as he curled around his eggs again.

Harry settled on the bed beside him, and ran his fingers over Voldemort’s scales. “I am shocked that you’ve laid so many,” he said, in English.

“It is a normal amount,” Voldemort pointed out.

“I’m nervous about having so many children! And we don’t even know if they’ll be snakes, or what. I mean, they came in eggs, but how much of that is you being part snake?” He shrugged. 

“Don’t be disappointed,” Voldemort whispered, hating the sting of tears in his eyes at the idea of Harry - his mate Harry - finding him disgusting and unnatural and lots of other words that repeated in his head.

“I’m not disappointed at all,” Harry murmured, caressing his cheeks with gentle fingers. “I’m so proud of you, Vee. Such a good mother to our eggs.”

Nobody other than Voldemort and Harry (and possibly Ginny) would ever know that Voldemort leaned into Harry’s touch and hissed, a soft, serpentine hiss of pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're going to be a dad!" Ginny squealed, regarding the twenty-three eggs with mixed excitement and fascination.  
> "Why did we let her in here?" muttered Voldemort, eying Ginny and pulling the eggs closer to him.  
> "I trust her," Harry said, kissing the top of Voldemort's scaled head. "She won't hurt them, Vee, I promise."


	3. Hatched

_“Master,”_ Nagini hissed. _“Your whitefaces are here.”_

Voldemort was curled around the clutch of eggs, dozing. Harry lay beside him, one arm slung over the pale hips.

Voldemort stirred, blinking blearily at Nagini. _“I am busy, my pet.”_ He prodded Harry to wake his slumbering lover, and when Killing Curse green eyes opened, snuggled into his side. Harry’s skin was pleasantly warm, like a sunwarmed rock.

Harry’s fingers ghosted over his scaled head, eliciting a hiss of pleasure. “Hey, Vee,” he said, “you should go and see to your Death Eaters.”

“I don’t want to,” Voldemort complained. He wasn’t looking, but he could imagine the fond smile on Harry’s face.

“Come on.” said Harry. “You get dressed and go. I’ll look after the nest, they’ll be okay for half an hour without you.”

“My babies.” Voldemort mumbled, nudging one of the eggs.

“They’ll be okay.” Harry’s hand stopped stroking Voldemort’s head.

Voldemort got up as his lover asked, and slipped on a black robe. Harry was eying him with a lustful haze in his striking green eyes.

“Not now,” said Voldemort. He’d made the effort to get out of bed and away from his lover, he wasn’t going to go right back between the sheets. Briefly he contemplating asking Harry to come with him to the meeting and suck him off while he sat on his throne, but then remembered the eggs. Harry couldn’t come, even if Voldemort thought he would agree, because someone needed to guard the nest.

“Later, then,” said Harry, his eyes dropping to Voldemort’s crotch. He licked his lips and smirked at Voldemort.

Voldemort swept out of the room, his voluminous black robes sweeping out behind him. 

He wasn’t far into the meeting when Harry came racing into his throne room, shouting and waving his arms. “It’s happening!” yelled Harry. “One’s hatching, Vee, come quickly and see!”

Voldemort bolted from his throne, tearing after his younger lover. “And you left them alone?” he hissed, although he wasn’t really angry with Harry, just eager and anxious to be with their hatching young.

Harry was right. One of the large, white eggs was cracking, and a shadow inside it was moving around, scrabbling at the shell.

“It’s happening!” he exclaimed, drawing in a sharp breath and peering down at his egg. His egg. His and Harry’s, the egg he had laid from his own cloaca.

The egg was moving, knocking into its unhatched brothers and sisters, but Voldemort didn’t dare pick it up and move it.

“We’re going to be parents, Vee,” Harry whispered, his hand on Voldemort’s shoulder.

“Parents,” echoed Voldemort. The word felt strange on his tongue. He hadn’t said it aloud before.

A bit of the shell popped off, giving Harry and Voldemort glimpses of something squirming inside, scrabbling at the shell, then flopping down to rest. Something scaled.

“Are they snakes?” Harry wondered out loud.

Their hatchling soon proved Harry wrong, breaking the shell properly in half and flopping out onto the bed, exhausted and coated in amniotic fluid.

It was not a snake.

It wasn’t quite a human, either.

The child had the face of a human, with eyes and a mouth and a nose, but had scales where Harry expected to see human skin. The hatchling was also far thinner and smaller than a human baby would be. 

Voldemort scooped it up, easily holding it in his hands, marveling at the tiny features. “Perfect,” he whispered.

“Is it a he or a she?” Harry asked, looking at the hatchling’s groin, but seeing only a cloaca. And that by itself didn’t tell them anything.

“We won’t know until they’re older,” Voldemort said. “But that’s okay. Isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” Harry reassured, kissing the top of Voldemort’s head and then returning his attention to the baby. “When do you think the others will hatch?”

“Soon,” said Voldemort, “and I’m not leaving them, no matter what you say.”

“I wouldn’t dream of making you leave them now, Vee,” said Harry, “I wouldn’t have, earlier, if I’d known.”

“Well. You are a Gryffindor.” Voldemort teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you’re not mad.”

The other eggs all hatched within the next few days. Neither new parent slept; they were too busy watching the eggs and tending the hatchlings. Unlike real snakes, the babies were not able to look after themselves, and relied on Harry and Voldemort for their basic needs. Harry wasn’t sure what to feed them, but Voldemort found a lactation spell and said that if anything would work, it would be that. Harry had rather expected Voldemort to use it on himself - he had laid the eggs, after all - but Voldemort seemed to believe that his body had already done its fair share and it was Harry’s turn. So he cast the spell on Harry, causing Harry to develop rather prominent breasts.

But the hatchlings were able to suckle his milk, and that had been the goal. Voldemort spent most of his time keeping the yet-unhatched eggs warm, and Harry, as soon as the next few eggs hatched, found himself overrun with hissing, crying, hungry babies all vying for his attention and milk.

“Vee,” he complained when there were fifteen, “I haven’t slept in almost a week! They always want food!”

“They’re only little, Harry,” Voldemort said. “It won’t be much longer until they don’t need feeding as often.”

And it wasn’t. By the time they were a week old, each baby only needed to be fed once every few hours, rather than once every half hour as they had originally needed. Harry supposed it must be that they’d been tiny when they hatched. At one week old, they were almost as big as the average human child at birth. The younger hatchlings had to be kept apart from the older ones, in case the bigger hatchlings squashed them. Voldemort shuddered at the thought.

It had been nine days since the hatching of their eldest child that the twenty-third emerged from the last whole egg. 

Harry, who had been nursing two of the hatchlings, watched the emergence of the twenty-third child as eagerly as he had watched the first. Voldemort was enamoured with the last hatchling. It had something its siblings didn’t. Or rather, it didn’t have something its siblings had, and it was perhaps even more perfect than the others.

The final hatchling, like Voldemort himself, had slits for nostrils and no nose.


End file.
